


Helping Hands

by Everlind



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Anal Sex, Fail sex, First Time, M/M, Understanding partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But, today is <i>the day</i>. Shishido has the whole house to himself -his family is gone the whole evening to some horrid dinner-and-a-show (and honestly, they’d have had to shoot him before he’d agree to go to that social fiasco). </p><p>Today is they day they are going <i>to do it</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Choutarou's birthday 2014 !!  
> (many thanks to [Valshenne](http://valshenne.tumblr.com) for the prompt!)

Today is the day.

Shishido told Choutarou to  _not_  mark it on his calendar -because, really, Choutarou? That’s kinda lame. 

Also utterly counterproductive since they’ve been planning this, uh, next significant step in their relationship for a while. Secretly. Yeah, he knows. Planning? Not sexy. Even less sexy is getting walked in on by family members. Family members who are still not quite aware of how close they really are.

It is not exactly easy to tell your parents you have a boyfriend. 

But, today is  _the_  day. Shishido has the whole house to himself -his family is gone the whole evening to some horrid dinner-and-a-show (and honestly, they’d have had to shoot him before he’d agree to go to that social fiasco). 

Today is they day they are going _to do it_.

 

Have sex.

Shishido is nervous -in the privacy of his room he can admit that to himself. What if. What if. Over and over. He’s prepared, as much as one can be for. Well.

Yuushi gave him  _URGH_  notes. Diagrams. With helpful suggestions in the margins.

Gakuto gave him energy bars and sports drinks. Grinning like a brain addled imp.

And Jirou - _oh man his face is heating up just thinking about it-_  condoms. Extra-large. Which was flattering up until he added ‘oh and medium ones for you, Ryou-chan!’.

Yes. That’s the sort of friends he has. Lucky him.

(admittedly the notes were handy; the condoms— humiliating, yeah, okay. But necessary. The energy bars were tasty. He already ate those (what? he was hungry!))

Still. It’s his first time and he’s nervous. Shishido sits on the bed in a t-shirt and boxers, listening to the  _hush hush_  of water and groaning pipes as Choutarou showers. He already went, firmly telling Choutarou  _no_  and  _out_  and  _really I mean it_  when the latter suggested they shower together. Really didn’t want him around when he was trying to get clean, y’know. Up there.

Urgh.

Oh, man. Resting his face in his hands, Shishido tries to calm himself. What if it’s bad? What if he’s bad? He, as in Shishido, not Choutarou -who’ll probably be wonderful and perfect and amazing. Cause he kinda is.

He doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“Hey.”

Lips against the naked nape of his neck. Shishido jumps about a mile and elbows Choutarou in the gut. Great. Just what he wanted. Off to a good start already. He should’ve known.

“Ah, crap,” he hisses as Choutarou wheezes a little, hand planted on the mattress and the other over his stomach. “You okay?”

Choutarou nods, his light hair gone dark like steel now that it’s gone wet. Combing his fingers through it in apology, Shishido sighs to himself. Well done. They’re not even naked yet. Almost, in Choutarou’s case. Just a towel wrapped around his hips. Yeah. Wow. 

He grew up handsome. And he’s not just saying that because Choutarou is his best friend. Nor because he’s got a major crush on him. It’s simply when he stands there in the low honeyed light of the afternoon sun spilling through his window— he glows. Tall and lean, skin pale and flawless. Hips narrow and legs endless. 

“I’m fine, Shishido-san,” he manages after a deep inhale. “Sorry I startled you.”

“’snothing,” Shishido mumbles, twisting around so his legs unfold and dangle over the edge. 

“Hmmm,” Choutarou hums, sitting down next to him. The towel slips a little.  _Hrk_. “You okay?”

“Wonderful,” Shishido growls. Oops. Clears his throat. Nods and tries a smile. Kinda bares his teeth instead. Close enough.

For a moment Choutarou just looks at him. Honestly? Choutarou might have that whole tall, fair and athletic deal going on, but his face is what Shishido likes best. The straight line of his nose, the masculine jaw. The big bambish eyes, dark and honest.

Choutarou looks at him, head slowly tipping to the side and eyes softening. Suddenly shifts over the edge so that he’s kneeling before him on the floor. Is tall enough they still are face to face, his big hands resting lightly on Shishido’s bare thighs, below the hem of his shorts.

“I really like you Shishido-san,” he says. Earnestly. Says it like it’s a declaration.

And Shishido just feels his face heat up like he’s been lit on fire. “D-don’t  _say_  it like that, idiot!”

“Sorry,” Choutarou smiles. “It’s true though.”

Shishido splutters in protest. Right up and until Choutarou leans forward to kiss him.

Oh, god. Those kisses are going to kill him someday. Always gentle; just touching lips to Shishido and so innocent, almost, not quite, because after brushing together and pulling back -synchronized soft exhales mingling- they reach for other again and meet firmer, steadier, faces angling better so their lips can actually catch.

Because, underneath it, they feel a little hungry. His kisses. The way he lavishes Shishido’s lips with attention, like he’s asking permission and the soft happy sigh he lets out when he part his own to kiss him deeper, enough to taste. Neat and tidy until Shishido nips -all teeth- because he needs more, it’s then when Choutarou gets warm hands at the edge of his jaw to anchor the contact when Shishido licks inside his mouth slowly.

A sound of protests escapes him when Choutarou pulls back the tiniest increment so he can whisper: “We don’t have to. I’ll wait. I don’t mind.”

Now it is his turn to hum “Hmmm,” even as he winds both arms around Choutarou’s neck to draw him in. Before he knows it he’s flat on his back on top of the covers and missing his shirt (and nearly an eye in the process of taking it off) with Choutarou heavy and bare on top of him. It’s a good weight, solid and warm and alive and shit, oh god,  Choutarou’s towel has conveniently gone missing. Can feel him hard and hot nestled along the crease where his groin flows into his leg. The pressure is almost painful and holy shit he’s  _big_.

He’d kinda known that from clumsy hand jobs and quick fumbling, but to have it right  _there_  is intimidating. A flutter of nerves races through his gut and takes to hiding right at the back of his throat, making his exhales stutter a little. Shit. It’s okay, though. Choutarou’s shaking, too, fingers shivering an involuntary dance along the edge of his jaw.

“Hang on, lemme just-“ he mumbles, wriggling.

Choutarou raises himself on elbows and knees so Shishido can move underneath him —get his boxers off. He’s turned on, despite the nerves. Choutarou’s definitely turned on, hanging flushed and heavy below his belly. For a lack of knowing what to do with his hands he smoothes them down Choutarou’s sides, dragging his eyes away from the sight of his boyfriend’s dick -up to where it’s familiar, finding dark eyes waiting for him.

“Hey,” he manages, voice thick.

Choutarou actually smiles, slow and sweet, touching their noses together. Lowers himself, cock settling alongside Shishido’s. Gasp together, Shishido’s legs drawing up and parting instinctively around sharp hips. Rough palms rub of the flat planes of Shishido’s chest reverently, providing sizzling friction as they pass of his nipples. He groans, softly.

It gets an answering noise against his temple. “Ryou,” Choutarou moans, almost shyly.

Shit, wow. Okay.

Shishido reaches up to get a handful of hair, twist at it until their mouths align again. “Call me that again,” he growls against Choutarou’s parted lips. 

Small pause. Choutarou is trembling like one of the strings on his violin, the way it does when the music’s wound down enough to perch at the very edge of just being a memory on the air. And then: “Ryou.”

Nodding, Shishido tucks his legs up against Choutarou’s flanks, slides his hand out of soft, damp hair to squeeze a shoulder. “Okay, yeah, that’s,” swallows. “Do it.”

“Shouldn’t we-“

Shishido bites at the edge of Choutarou’s jaw. That shuts him up.

Legs drape over Choutarou’s thighs. Lube accidentally dribbles onto his belly when Choutarou can’t spread the excess of it over his fingers fast enough. Cold. Colder even, when he goes to touch- okay.

Choutarou is touching his butt. Shishido is not sure how he feels about that. Pretty sure he’d rather be playing tennis right now.

“Uhm,” Choutarou says, his face is splotchy red. 

“What,” he grits out.

“Pretty sure you, ah, have to relax, Shishido-san,” Choutarou requests politely.

“I am a bastion of serenity,” he grits out.

Silence.

“Uhm,” Choutarou goes again.

Why? Damn it. “ _Whaaat_?” he prompts again, wriggling uncomfortably against the pressure.

“I can’t get my finger in?”

This is terrible. More lube gets applied. Choutarou hums a soothing snatch of music. Shishido rather wishes the mattress’d grow teeth and gobble him up. Pressure increases, it’s weird. He stares at the ceiling. Then suddenly-

“Oh,” Choutarou goes.

Yes, oh. What the hell. There’s a finger up his ass and Shishido wonders if can still change his mind about this whole disaster. Make out together instead.

“Okay?” Choutarou asks, experimentally twisting his wrist (don’t twist your wrist oh god this is weird!).

“I have a finger up my butt,” Shishido hisses out. “What the hell do you think?”

To be honest, it’s weird, true. Also his butt. Which, all things considered: ew. It’s… bearable, just, if he concentrates on Choutarou’s face, the look of concentration there, the way he’s sucked in his lower lip. One hand is running along his leg soothingly. He takes his time. It doesn’t get any less awkward and a second finger introduces a slight burning tingle. 

Only once, when he’s got three fingers in him, is there an interesting jolt of sensation that has him rocking half-upright, the muscles in his belly standing out under the strain. They look at each other in surprise, blinking wide eyes.

Shishido is reminded of something Oshitari circled in lurid pink in those notes, but the contact melted his brain into a putty and he can’t recall any further instructions to how the hell they should go about locating it again. He’s not sure if he cares, even.

“Yeah, okay, I’m good,” he says after long minutes more of this. 

Brown eyes flick up to his. Choutarou nods slowly and reaches for a condom. Shishido’s heart rate practically goes into over-drive when he shifts fully between his spread thighs, helps him wrap legs around his hips. Misses two times before-

Shishido’s fingers clutch at the sheets. His body shakes.

The pain is supposed to go away soon. He read that somewhere. Also how long is Choutarou’s dick? There seems to be no end to that thing and he already feels like he can’t possible take anymore and it  _stings_. He winces and Choutarou gasps. Can feel his cock twitch inside of him. Weird.

He’s breathing hard and his hair is wet with sweat and Choutarou stops -not even flush with him yet. But he’s huffing out hot exhales and his brows are doing that beautiful little pinch they get when he’s really turned on and really enjoying himself.

It might be worth it only because of the look on Choutarou’s face. Rather as though he might be experiencing a holy revelation. It makes Shishido grin, he’s so stupid for this kid.

“Is this okay?” Choutarou asks voice gone all airy. “You okay?”

Shishido nods, quirks a grin.

The other is not fooled. “Ryou-“

“Just- just go for it,” he tells him.

“Hey,” Choutarou goes, leaning forward so they can kiss, softly. Thumbs rub circles into Shishido’s hips. When he squirms a little to get used to the feeling of having something inside of him a shaking sound of pleasure is dragged up from deep in Choutarou’s chest.

“Feel good?” Shishido asks. The words are a little clipped.

Choutarou nods, resting his face in the hollow of Shishido’s neck. Lays out a meandering trail of kisses.That’s nice. That part he likes. The closeness. The thunder of Choutarou’s heart against his chest, the little noises as his breathing hitches, the heat of his body. 

And yeah, okay, even that he’s inside of him. The idea of it, to be connected that way.

The reality, though, is that as soon as Choutarou starts moving he moans, low and gritted -involuntary and not because he’s aroused. His boner is definitely dead. The drag of Choutarou’s girth in him  _burns_  and he manages to last two, three, four thrusts, rolling with him and arching— trying, he really tries but

it really hurts. A sharp, raw pain.

Shishido shakes his head, raises hands to touch Choutarou’s waist. “Sorry-“ he whispers.

He loves Choutarou for stopping immediately. No questions asked, no pouty ‘what am I doing wrongs’, none of that. Just stops and pulls out gently. Makes him gasp, hips jerking. Leaves him feeling empty, now. So weird.

Together they try to breathe, Choutarou curled over him and pressing their foreheads together. Both their faces are flushed and Shishido can see his partner’s pulse jump under the skin. Details are picked out in hyperrealism, the rush of air into Choutarou’s lungs, the warm golden sun highlighting swirling dust motes, the cotton under his back.

Choutarou pressing questioning lips to his.

“Sorry,” he says again. Damn it. He feels terrible. What a wuss.

“S’okay,” Choutarou whispers.

“I could,” Shishido begins, gesturing to Choutarou’s still hard dick vaguely, “help you out.”

Soft hum, little shake of the head. Strong arms wrap around him and then he’s rolled onto his side, being held. “That’s okay,” Choutarou says. “This is good.”

Shishido lies in his best friend’s arms, wondering what just happened. Kisses rain over his face, careful fingers rub at his aching lower back. Choutarou’s still hard and the condom is tacky against the top of his leg. When their mouths meet to trade heavy kisses he thinks he might be dreaming, if it weren’t for the awkward pain in his butt.

And yeah, okay, pain in his butt? Really lame.

This, this is okay though, opening his mouth under Choutarou’s and curving towards him lazily.

Maybe next time, he thinks.

 

There will be a next time.

 


End file.
